


Anonymity

by FleetSparrow



Category: Foyle's War
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not the fix-it fic I meant, Unrequited Love, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: Rex can have Andrew every way he wants, and he never has to know.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I thought I'd published this around the time I wrote it, so, uh... whoops? Written for Season of Kink that I completely failed to finish, double whoops.
> 
> Making my slow progression toward writing fix-it fic for this boy.

It's a damned fool thing to do, Rex tells himself, in the middle of a war.  Somebody will find him.  The Home Guard’s everywhere.  There's a damn blackout, as if the woods weren't dark enough already.  If he were smart, he wouldn't be out here in the pitch black, stumbling over roots and shivering as much from fearful anticipation as the cold.  (Of course, if he were only a better person, he wouldn't be out here in the first place, wouldn't need to sneak around like the criminal he is.)

There's just enough moon to see by and even that disappears by the time he reaches his tree.  God -- _his_ tree, because he has been out here enough times to choose.  Close enough to hear the road and the field, far enough to not be detected.

He's not in uniform.  He did that once, his first time, and the horror of being recognized nearly sent him into a panic.  Better to be as anonymous as possible.  Just another unknown shadow in the dark.

The worst part is the waiting.  There's never a guarantee anyone else will be out in the woods, even less of a guarantee they'll be who you want.  Not that who Rex wants would ever come out here in the dead of night, anyway, but still.

Tonight, though, he doesn't have to wait long.

Dark hair, young, maybe just a little taller than Andrew--  Good!  There's no fear he'll go too far in his fantasies tonight.

The other man comes closer, face mostly hidden in shadow, but Rex can tell from the way his hands clench and twitch, ever so discretely, over his groin that he's ready.

It's too cold to pretend they're not.

Rex moves first.  He catches the side of the man's belt and pulls him closer, just enough room between them for Rex to kneel.  It's not a bad prick.  It's clean and it's hard and that's all he cares about right now.  It'll do.

The stranger muffles a moan as Rex sucks him.  Everything sounds louder in the dark -- a reminder of their sins, most likely.  Rex doesn't think about how much penance this would cost; he stopped wondering six months ago.

The prick -- not Andrew’s, but it could be -- is hot in his mouth and heavy on his tongue.  It's solid; it will fill him up tonight.

The man lets out an involuntary groan when Rex pulls away, hands grasping for more.  Rex is already halfway out of his trousers when he catches them.

“Fuck me.”

It's little more than a whisper, but it's enough for Rex to find himself bracing against a tree as the stranger enters him.

It's easier, now, to pretend it's Andrew fucking him.  Andrew’s warm body pressed against him, Andrew’s breath on his neck, Andrew’s hand stroking him as he pushes deeper into Rex.  If not for the bark scratching into his palms, Rex can almost pretend they're just in some unheated room, maybe christening their own flat.

He laughs at that, an odd sort of manic twitter that ushers in his orgasm, spilling his semen onto dark wood.  And with that, the dream goes.

There's no flat.  There's no Andrew.  It's the middle of the night and he's being buggered against a tree by a stranger he'll -- hopefully -- never see again.  It's a cold and broken thing to come down to, but they're both finished and the shiver in their bones has more to do with the wind now.

The other man disappears back into the shadows and Rex fights himself to keep from lighting up a cigarette.  He's broken enough laws for one night, and there is a war on.

Silently, he makes his way back to base.  It's not what he wants -- certainly not _who_ he wants -- but he'll sleep well tonight, and tomorrow Andrew’s bright smile won't hurt quite as much.


End file.
